Of Morning Lessons
by reallygoodliars
Summary: Zutara oneshot. Tutoring lessons lead to something more.


**A/N: My first Zutara and my first lemon YOU GUYS. Kind of a cliche storyline but wth.**

**Warning: LEMONS, spoilers up to S1E12 I guess.**

The first time Katara meets him is in the school library, way earlier than she is used to. He is sitting in the lotus position towards the east-facing window just as the sun rises, it's rays illuminating his silhouette. He turns his head over his shoulder and his eyes are a liquid reflection of the morning sun.

"You're late,"

His voice is gravelly, but not from sleep. The aristocratic lift of his chin and rigid line of his back show how awake he actually is.

It isn't until they are sitting directly across from each other in one of the private studies that she notices the deep red, comet-like scar that stretches over his left eye. She catches herself though and looks away as quickly as she can.

As he concentrates on a worksheet, she steals an opportunity to concentrate on him, on his face. He's an intimidating young man with sharp features; gilded angled eyes, one marred by a severe burn it seems. What happened, she wonders and her chest constricts as she considers all the horrible possibilities. Even so, the scar only provides depth and does not detract from his handsome face. Yes, she thinks, he is handsome. She ignores the light fluttering in her chest.

She watches his perfect lips grimace, then purse with frustration.

"This is stupid," he mutters angrily, before he throws his pencil down.

She wants to tell him that she agrees, that this assessment is stupid. But it's a required document mandated by the Royal Preparatory Academy, and as a tutor and teacher's aide (not teacher), she must follow the rules. He must follow the rules.

So, instead she stifles back the laugh forming in the back of her throat, which ends up making her seem constipated, she thinks, or just really weird. It's just that the way his lip snarls and his eyebrow (the unmarked one) furrows reminds her that he is a silly high school student and she is not. She buries the initial feelings that had surfaced upon meeting him because it's irrational and could get her into a lot of trouble. Even if he is really handsome.

"So, what are you a sophomore? Aren't you a little young to be tutoring me?"

His petulance is refreshing and reassuring. He's just in high school, Katara, don't forget.

"Try again," she suggests with a tart smile.

"Junior?"

She nods affirmingly.

To that, he scoffs and narrows his eyes. "You do know that I'm a senior?"

His arms have crossed defiantly across his chest, defining the lean muscle underneath the regulation uniform blazer he's wearing. She forces to keep her gaze upward on his face.

"You do know that I'm a junior… at Ba Sing Se University?"

He narrows his eyes suspiciously, disbelievingly.

"I'm an aide to Master Pakku; I've been serving on the faculty for a little less than a year… like an internship,"

She wants to smack herself for adding that last part.

"Interesting," he says.

Katara is very sure that there's a slight curve starting to form at the right side of his mouth, but it's gone before she can make sure it's there.

They only get halfway through the introductory study plan, what with his explosive temperament and all. But she's determined. He agrees to meet with her three times a week in preparation of the upcoming mid-terms. The only condition being that they meet in the early mornings before school starts, much to her dismay.

His name is Zuko.

* * *

Zuko is her only tutee for the semester and she has to admit that she enjoys their time together more than she should. He's trying and testing of her patience, but she does well to undermine his overconfidence. That part is okay. But most of his mannerisms are of a person well above his years and quite honestly, it's very unnerving.

Katara is well aware of his short-lived yet already shoddy reputation at the school. Apparently, he's been home-schooled his whole life. His guardian (and not his parents, she discovers) had enrolled him in the program for the benefit of his socialization as well as furthering his education in a more traditional setting. She agrees with the socialization bit; he has the personality of a boarcupine.

He's working on it though, it seems. Every so often he brings her a canister of different kinds of tea leaves, jasmine at first, then ginger and dried moonpeach; courtesy of his uncle (who she assumes is his guardian), he says, before sliding it in her direction. He always looks away from her when he does this and she pretends not to notice the slight reddening of his cheeks. It's adorable, really.

But the troubling moments are when she first sees him in the morning practicing his daily discipline of meditation, often without his blazer. As she approaches, he's always in front of that same window, the sun carving every bit of shadow and showcasing the athletic build of his back through his white button up. It's moments like when he's focusing on his work and she realizes that she's beginning to memorize the contours of his face, knowing which lines appear depending on which emotion is revealing itself. And after every lesson together, how he bows his head in farewell but also gratitude. There is something beyond his face and body and mind. The parts of his character that begin to show themselves are uncoiling something in Katara and she feels it, feels something even when she's not with him.

"How'd I do?" He asks, interrupting her thoughts.

She is supposed to be grading his paper. She tries to fight back the flush creeping into her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I've been a little distracted," she admits, showing him the unmarked paper.

"Well, we can take a break. I mean, I could use one," he says, relaxing in his chair.

She smiles gratefully.

"So, how are your classes going?"

"They're… uh, going," he says in a low voice.

He's avoiding looking at her which means he's withholding something. She watches him expectantly, waiting for his eyes to meet hers. They do.

"They're okay," he adds with some hesitation.

She eyes him skeptically before asking, "Your grades are slightly better, I mean, right?"

"Yep."

He starts playing with the lit wick of the candle positioned between them, dimming it till its almost out and then letting it blossom back to its former glory. The light flickers, highlighting the obvious anger in his face, although he seems to have nothing else to say.

But Katara likes to pry and she never leaves things alone.

"Zuko, what's wrong?"

He lets out a frustrated yell, startling her, and causing the flame of the candle to move violently and abnormally high. Three other unused candles along the long table light up as well.

"My teachers hate me! And everyone else thinks I'm some sort of freak!"

He's standing up from his seat, pacing back and forth, and she thinks she sees smoke pluming from his nostrils. Then he stands still, facing his favorite window.

After what feels like forever, he finally speaks, his voice broken, "I mean, look at me."

And Katara's heart feels a bit broken too because she realizes he is referring to his scar, although it takes a second to register, because this is the first time he has acknowledged it in front of her.

"You are _not_ a freak. There is nothing wrong with you."

He leans against the table, his hands fisted while his head is lowered, but he slightly lifts his chin to reveal his amber eyes ablaze beneath the fringe of his black hair.

"Don't lie to me!" He yells and pitches forward, shoving his face in hers. "Don't tell me that this doesn't scare you!"

She wants to flinch because _he_ is scaring her, not the thing on his face that he wears like a badge of dishonor. She reaches with her arms and gently, but firmly cups both sides of his face in her hands. With her lips just a hair's breadth away from his forehead, she repeats, "There is nothing wrong with you, Zuko,"

Katara suppresses all the feelings bottled inside about how wrong this is, how wrong it could be because all she cares about in this moment is… him. It's not about how she's blurring the boundaries or how she's risking everything… it's about Zuko. And this is a huge problem because she's back at square one.

They are interrupted when the they hear the library doors creak open in the near distance.

Zuko abruptly leaves without a word and Katara is reeling.

* * *

He does not show up for their next lesson, or the one after that. But on that second missed day there is a new canister of lychee nut tea waiting for her at their regular table. So she goes again on the third day and sure enough, he is there.

Zuko does not meditate on this day. He's patiently waiting at the table and when she approaches he rises to bow his head politely. It's not only his way of greeting her but it's also his apology, and as subtle as it seems, she accepts. She accepts because the fact that he came back is enough; it shouldn't be, but it is.

* * *

The following week, Katara notices that one of the Academy's more unsavory students, Jet, with a black eye amongst other injuries. Last year, she caught him and his little entourage drunk on school grounds. As she'd reprimanded only a warning and suggested they hightail it, Jet decided to try a hand at groping her in his drunken stupor. Yeah, unsavory.

When she meets with Zuko for their mid-week tutoring lesson, his bruised and hastily wrapped knuckles make sense. She doesn't scold him, surprisingly. She sighs with a pitying smile and gently unravels the dirty bandages from his hand. He freezes under her touch and she laughs softly, telling him to relax. He tries, but she swears that he's holding his breath. Uncapping her water canteen, she bends the water towards her, encasing her hands in a clear liquid glove, glowing crystalline blue. She covers each of his hands with both of her own, one at time, since his hands are larger than hers. He winces at first, as the open wounds begin to seal, but then the bruises diminish and the pain washes away.

She rests for a brief moment as healing draws more energy than her normal bending. Katara also realizes that this is her second time touching him more intimately than she should. But she can't force herself to regret it.

"Thanks," he murmurs. "So, you can heal,"

"All of the female Southern Water Tribe waterbenders are healers, by tradition; it was adopted from our sister Northern tribe. Very few actually progress towards combative training. I guess, you could say we're old fashioned,"

He looks surprised, his left eye widening only slightly in comparison to his right. "You're from the Southern Water Tribe?"

"Yes," she says a little self-consciously.

But she knows it's not common to see tribal waterbenders so far from home, much less from the Southern tribe. Considering their nearly extinct culture, there was always a lot of pressure to stay; to rebuild. But to the disappointment of many, both she and her brother had long left their tribe in search of greater purpose outside of their familiar glacial walls.

"Sorry, it's just-" he apologizes awkwardly.

"I know… I'm kind of a big deal," she interjects.

She laughs openly at the expression on his face. And for the first time, he laughs too. Katara has never heard something so pure and rare. When they stop, they're smiling freely at one another, until suddenly, it gets awkward again.

"So, want to tell me what happened?" She asks suddenly.

"No, not really," Zuko says in a low tone, turning his hands and flexing his fingers.

Katara tries to mask the disappointment in her eyes, but nods, as she starts to pull out the study material.

He's halfway through the assignment when he decides to speak up.

"Jet accused us of having an inappropriate relationship, in so many words," he admits even quieter this time.

She stills, noticing frost forming along the edges of her open water canteen. She grabs it before he can see, capping it shut and burying it in her bag. Zuko is staring at her inquisitively, which brings her back to the greater issue at hand.

"You should've given him two black eyes," is the only thing she says.

It seems to satisfy the topic for now, even if it leaves the deeper unasked questions, unanswered.

He smirks, and coughs a little as if he's withholding a laugh.

* * *

Oh, Spirits. Today he is shirtless as he meditates.

But strange enough, the sun has not yet risen. She's a little earlier than usual, but it's because she didn't really sleep well. The moon is full and ripe, sharing the last few minutes of the sky with the sun as it sits low on the horizon. And the moon calls to her, as it does with all waterbenders.

Even when she sits down beside him, mirroring his crossed legs, his eyes remain shut and he is unmoving. So, she moves in front of him, quietly waving her hand across the front of his face. Just when she thinks that perhaps he's fallen asleep, his hand cuts across the short distance and grabs her wrist.

"Zu-uko," she stutters, stunned.

He pulls her hand to his face, the scarred side, the side he both protects and hates equally; then he drags her hand down his throat, his collarbone, and finally his bare chest. He is scorching hot, amplified more by the fact that her hands are cool like water. Her fingers graze his searing skin, all the while her blue, blue eyes, meet his own.

"Don't tell me that this doesn't scare you," he says, his voice heavy with lust.

She screams and wakes up to find herself in bed, entangled in her comforter.

The full moon winks at her between the slit of the drapes on her window.

Oh, Spirits.

* * *

In the wake of a disturbing, but admittedly gratifying dream, Katara thinks it might be best to distance herself from Zuko.

Their next lesson together, she is polite but nothing more.

"Is something wrong?" He asks, his tone inquisitive, but his arms are tucked against his chest like a petulant child.

"Hm?"

She pretends as if she hasn't heard him.

"You're acting strange,"

"No, I'm not," she says with a forced laugh.

His good eyes twitches, but all he says is, "Whatever."

Already, Katara can tell that his mood has dampened. But she would rather have a sour Zuko, than a seductive, naked Zuko.

He speeds through his worksheet without stopping for questions. When he's done, he shoves the paper towards her and burrows his head between his arms.

She rolls her eyes and starts looking over his answers, burying the twinge of guilt she feels.

"N-no,"

Zuko is mumbling. In his sleep.

"Zuko?" She whispers.

"No," he mutters again.

Hesitantly, she touches her fingers to his arms.

"No!" He yells.

Zuko grabs her wrist and seconds later Katara realizes that he is burning her. She yelps and drags her arm away. He realizes what he's done, and unfortunately she cannot hide the shock and hurt on her face. She is already trying to heal herself, while she warily watches him.

"I'm so sorry."

"What was that, Zuko? Were you dreaming?"

"Kind of. It's a nightmare I have... sometimes."

Her arm has healed but Katara can see that he still feels the remnants of whatever nightmare was plaguing him. As much she wants to leave it alone, she can't.

She gently cups his hand in hers and asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"

For the rest of their time together she learns a story of an abusive father and why Zuko bears a mark that still haunts him in his dreams.

* * *

"So, any plans this weekend?" She asks, offhandedly as she's packing up her things.

He coughs, garnering her attention.

"It's… my… birthday tomorrow,"

She's surprised and wishes she had known.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? I feel terrible… I would've gotten you something, you know?"

After nearly four months of spending time with him and not knowing such a simple fact, Katara does feel terrible.

"I know," he says, a small smile playing on his lips. "But…" he hesitates.

"Yes?"

"But, I was wondering if you would like to come over tomorrow," he says as fast as possible.

His face heats up, but he is refusing to look away from her.

"Uh, well-"

"My uncle is having a small dinner for me and he asked if you could join us," he throws in, just as quickly.

She's hesitant because it seems like his uncle is forcing him to invite her, because honestly, what teenager wants their tutor at their birthday party?

"Is it… is it okay if I come? Because I-"

"Yes."

After a beat, she bows her head politely and says, "I would be honored."

* * *

Katara stares up in awe at the estate. Sure, she's tutored a few students from their homes, but this has to be the grandest 'home' she's been to.

The gift she holds in her hands feels so silly now, embarrassingly so.

When the door opens, she takes a step back at the elderly woman standing there. But then Zuko is there, shooing her off. The woman shares a secret smile with Katara and then picks up a platter of food off the foyer table, before shuffling off. She realizes that she's probably the house staff, of course.

"Happy birthday, Zuko!"

She hugs him then, quick and easy but a hug still the same. He still stands there rigidly but gives her a brief shy smile.

"Thank you, Katara,"

The way her name rolls off his tongue seems so intimate that her toes curl in her boots.

"I have to admit I was looking forward to seeing you dressed outside of your uniform," she blurts out.

Suddenly, she regrets her admission because maybe it comes across as too familiar or perhaps insulting. It's not that he doesn't look nice in his black trousers and that white button up, but it's that damn button up that makes her remember that dream. Lessons aside, she would welcome seeing him in a less distracting shirt.

"Ah, Uncle was insistent that we dress up, a bit," he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "But you look very nice,"

She feels underdressed in her winter white sweater dress; she also doesn't recall the length being quite so short.

"Thank you," she replies, before handing him his gift, "This is for you."

Their fingers brush as she lays the small envelope into his hands. She prays to Tui and La that he does not know the shock it sends up her fingertips.

He gives her a short tour of certain parts of his illustrious house, estate; whatever it is, it is mammoth. Tastefully curated items line the walls and rooms, almost like a museum, and she gets the sense that it can be quite lonely here.

To Katara's surprise, it is just her, Zuko, and his uncle at his birthday dinner. She would be sad in any other case but the two do not seem bothered at all, so she doesn't say a word about it.

The cuisine is elaborate and celebratory, and although she struggles with the heat of the Fire Nation influenced dishes, it is delicious. A rich red plum wine is also offered at dinner especially because Zuko is now officially eighteen. Katara takes a large swig of it, letting it meld with the burning sensation already in her stomach. He is eighteen.

Zuko's uncle Iroh is a charming old man. He seems to embarrass his nephew most of the time, but Katara finds him genuine, and not to mention, very entertaining. She thanks him for all the teas he has gifted her with, but there's a slight confusion in his eyes.

"Uncle, you know? All the teas you told me to give her?" Zuko reiterates.

Iroh laughs then and begins to describe his perfected method of preparing tea.

He thanks her for helping his nephew in his studies; in mentoring him, he says.

To this, Katara flushes and replies, "Zuko is a very dedicated student, possibly the most dedicated that I have ever worked with." She then adds, "I am hardly his mentor. Aside from the school curriculum, there isn't really anything that I could teach him that he doesn't already know,"

His uncle looks pointedly at a very abashed Zuko, who promptly changes the subject.

Dinner concludes with cake, other various desserts, and of course tea.

The sun is setting quickly and the two service staff members have left for the day. Iroh excuses himself, retreating somewhere else in the house and insists that Katara stay for as long as she wishes. Then, it is just her and Zuko.

Zuko coughs, clearing his throat and breaking the deafening silence.

"Thank you for coming,"

"Thank you for inviting me. I had a really great time and well, your uncle is-"

"Embarrassing, I know," he says abruptly, turning his teacup around and around.

She laughs at the uncomfortable look on his face, to which he looks up and smiles.

"I was going to say 'nice', but… he does like to tease you a bit, doesn't he? You two seem very close,"

"Yes, we are," he hesitates then, avoiding her gaze, "I'm sure tonight was a little weird, right?"

"Uh-"

"It's not that I don't have friends… I mean, I made some at school. It's just that, I never really got around to telling them about my birthday and… and, I just really wanted to spend it with you."

He rushes the last part so quickly, she almost misses it. But she doesn't and she's not sure what to make of it.

"Well, I'm glad. I mean, I really enjoy the time we've spent, working together,"

She says this because it's the right thing to say, although it's not even a tenth of how she actually feels. He's about to say something else, something more, but she interrupts him.

"I think I should go home,"

After a moment, he says in a dejected tone, "Okay."

He walks her to the front door and it feels ten times longer than it really is. He steps a beat slower than her, slightly behind which is fine because she can't bear to look at his face right now.

"Happy birthday, Zuko," her voice, barely above a whisper.

She steps out the front door, shutting it behind her, and refuses to look at the boy her heart aches for in so many ways.

Several minutes have passed and Katara doesn't realize that she has been standing in the same spot until the front door reopens and he is there, one foot in, one foot out.

By the time he fully crosses over the threshold, they are entwined in arms and lips and hearts. He is fervent, inexperienced, and hot, but it is much like she imagined. Their teeth knock a few times from the intensity, but she slows him down pulling his bottom lip between hers. His eyes open in response and they are glazed with fire that she feels down in her core. His hands slide up her back, nestling in the ends of her hair and tugging gently, exposing her neck to him. He trails wet kisses down there, pulling back the collar of her coat and she whimpers.

"Zuko… this is… too… fast," she whispers breathlessly.

He stops suddenly, dropping his hands and looking somewhat hurt. "I'm… I'm sorry," he says quietly.

"I'm not," Katara replies with an embarrassed smile, "I… I just think we should take it slow."

He smiles subtly, nodding his head in understanding, "Can I walk you home?" His breath is short and his voice is deep, sending shivers down her spine.

"Yes,"

Spirits, yes.

The two of them walk through the mostly empty streets of Ba Sing Se, her fingers laced with his.

When she kisses him goodnight she caresses his face in her palms and touches her lips to his scar. He remains still with bated breath, but when she does this, she feels the tension melt from his bones.

Their goodnight kiss lasts for a good five minutes, despite the winter chill. Zuko keeps them warm with his firebending, even though Katara doesn't really need it.

* * *

Zuko is not sitting in his regular spot in front of the window when she arrives. She wonders if he's not going to show because, well, because maybe he's having second thoughts. The excitement she felt before arriving dwindles to nothingness.

Then suddenly, she feels hands glide around her waist and Zuko is right there behind her. She spins around, eager to see his face; and when she does he looks just about the same. His grin is lopsided and bashfully happy.

"We need to-"

His lips claim hers before she can say anything more. It is tentative and earnest, as he covers her mouth with his. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. His scent is intoxicating and it fills her with want, perhaps need. Before she knows it, she is backed up to the edge of the table, their table. He helps her up, his arms still wrapped around her waist, unrelenting while their lips are still fused together. All the while she notices that he tastes like jasmine tea and a hint of smoke. He shifts in between her legs, pressing his groin into her and she feels his obvious want there.

"Zu-uko," she pants, causing him to stop. "We need to talk."

His pupils are dilated and dark with desire. They flicker over her now swollen mouth but he's stopped, at least for now.

"I'm cashing in my birthday present," he says with a smirk.

Of course. With no time to plan a gift, Katara had done the lamest thing possible. Basically she had handwritten a free pass for Zuko to get out of a lesson and do whatever he wanted instead. Only, she had imagined that he'd be sleeping in or something similar.

Katara doesn't fight him when he surrounds her face with his calloused hands and pulls her mouth to his. And when he nips on her bottom lip like she had that first night, she slides her tongue against his. He growls and mirrors her actions, coaxing hers in a way that is raw. That, coupled with the way he grinds his hardened front is very quickly undoing her. She is throbbing down there and has no capability of stopping now.

They've helped each other out of most of their clothing. He's bare chested just like in her dream, and so is she, though her hands cover her breasts. He touches her hand as if asking permission, so she drops them to her sides, feeling extremely vulnerable. He slowly drops a dotted line of kisses from her neck down to her chest. As soon as his mouth hits the sensitive part, she leans back against the table, lost in ecstasy.

"Oh, Zuko," she whimpers.

He bites softly and she thinks she might be sent over the edge soon. Somehow she's able to focus enough on guiding one of her hands down his hip and around the front to trace the outline of his rock hard length. Zuko bucks at her touch and releases her nipple to moan, his voice husky. He straightens his back so he can be closer.

Feeling encouraged, she continues her teasing ministrations all the while kissing him clumsily. Then she grasps the girth of his hard-on through his pants, running her index finger along the tip. They catch each others' eyes, hooded with sex, and there is a pleading in his.

Bending forward she starts to undo his belt buckle and soon enough his pants fall to the ground. In the light of the morning dawn, he is completely naked and beautiful. As she drags her hand up and down his freed member, his hands have found the edges of her leggings. Her movements slow as she feels him splay his fingers across the front of her panties.

"Please, Zuko," she whines softly.

Dipping underneath her panties, he slides one finger, then two into her wet sex, slowly and sensually. Katara's mouth goes round but nothing except harsh breath comes out as he slides his fingers in and out. She clings to him, one hand around his neck, the other still wrapped around the shaft of his dick. He touches her until she is sopping wet and ready. He finally pulls her leggings off and now they are both fully exposed to one another.

Still perched on the edge of the table, Zuko steps towards her, rubbing the head of his dick against her wetness. He's teasing her, she realizes, so she crosses her feet behind his bare ass and scoots him forward. He chuckles, sending tremors through her, and kisses her as if to distract her. When he pulls away, he watches her with those honeyed eyes just as he's trying to fit inside her, stretching her wide.

She huffs and he grunts. They are still for a moment as they both adjust to the sensation. His hands are everywhere, before they settle around the swell of her hips above her rear. He squeezes her ass before pulling out and pushing back in all in one swoop. She wants to scream but she bites her bottom lip and groans instead. Her arms have settled behind her against the table as he starts to pump in and out, his movements awakening the tension locked inside her lower belly.

"Ugh, you're… so… tight," he pants.

Katara draws her hands one at time, around Zuko's neck, corded with muscle. She wants to be as close to him as possible. It works; as he slams his cock in her it penetrates deeper and strikes her in the right nerve.

"Don't stop… don't stop," she mutters, between her moaning.

He seems emboldened because his pace quickens, building a rhythmic pattern as he ruts into her. The table inches further and further away with each of his jarring movements. They are both slick with sweat from the heat and effort, drowning in their desire to finish.

"I'm… not… going to… last," he grunts, smoke escaping from his nostrils.

"Keep… going," she encourages, the side of her face pressed against his.

He does, pressing harder and deeper with each thrust driving Katara closer and closer to the edge. She know's they are both near until finally, she feels the head of his dick swell and dig deeper than before.

"Oh, Katara," he growls, as he cums.

Her orgasm continues to climb, until he pumps into her a few more times, hard and long, before she climaxes. Her fingernails dig crescent moons around the nape of his neck as she keens in pleasure.

They bask in the afterlude of their euphoric tryst, holding each other. Zuko presses his damp forehead against hers and then dips his head to kiss her softly.

* * *

The early summer weather has brought dewy evenings and steamy days to Ba Sing Se. The streets are pilfered with travelers coming in and out of the city. And because schools are out for the summer, festivals and fairs are abound. The feeling is joyous.

Katara has left her 'internship' at the Royal Preparatory Academy and just finished her junior year at university. And Zuko has graduated, with honors.

He has no more secrets to hide, and neither does she.


End file.
